


Pins

by kneelinganon (the_netherlady)



Series: Mending [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avenger Loki, Battle, Brother Feels, Bruce Has Issues, Community: norsekink, Domestic Avengers, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied Torture, Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Redemption, M/M, Norse Myths & Legends, Odin's A+ Parenting, Possible smut, Post Avengers (Movie), Protective Steve, Psychological Torture, Sacrifice, Self-Destruction, Self-Discovery, Teambuilding, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, so many problems, still deciding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_netherlady/pseuds/kneelinganon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything easy usually isn't worth doing. </p><p>At least, that's what Pop always tried to teach him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pins

_Dark._  
  
 _All terrible, unforgiving abysses—crushing silence, too far away from life for there to be noises, cries, breathing—_  
  
 _Stomach, lead._  
 _Tongue, lead._  
 _His very heart, lead._  
  
 _Dropping further and further, down, down, down, down—is it down? Is he truly falling anymore? All light and color and cold, rushing past all too quickly to see anymore. It is only black._  
  
 _Eyes burn, limbs stiff, brittle, the bones surely cracking under all that frozen skin, so much pressure, crushing with the plummets into endless, hapless **dark** …_  
  
 _An eternity and then — bright amber light. He sees his handsome face, his strong and joyful eyes, oh Gods, he was such a pretty child, a happy child—and those reddish eyes, so full of love and favor—damnthemalliftheysayheneverlovedthatboy—but there, below his crest and shield, red flows like a river, and his face pales, his eyes wax, and he fades into all that black._  
  
 _And still he falls._  
  
 _A strip of glow, a white light, flashing by—like an eel in the water—no, not an eel—a tail—full of scales and stories, and his leaden heart aches—because there are not only scales, but fur, glowing in some half-formed moon, bright yellow teeth, stained by blood, the hilt of a sword jammed between them—and there is a pale hand, a beautiful hand, reaching for him, smelling of sweetness and bone—but they are gone too._  
  
 _And still he falls._  
  
 _A shine of revolving stars—and he sees his mother’s face. Soft yellow curls about her ears, like comet’s tails, glowing brightly in her eyes—but there are tears there. Ugly, full tears, dripping like sludge down her beautiful face—forgivememotherbytheNornspleaseforgiveme—_  
  
 _She too melts into the dark._  
  
 _And he still falls._  
  
 _Faces, blood, tears, hands—all familiar, all gentle and harsh and real—not real—tortures and blessings, he reaches for them, no matter how often he’s already seen them pass, still he’ll reach, with hope and cries of desperate longing—_  
  
 _For an age, he plummets, and at the end, he no longer reaches. No longer looks. The hope has been burned out of him, and the void is crushing. He wonders if he is dead. He wonders if he does not deserve to be dead._  
  
 _This is wrong._  
 _He had been pulled from this darkness._  
 _Steel and gold had been pushed into his hands._  
 _And he had gone to that precious planet and laid waste to those pitiful creatures._  
 _He had failed._  
  
 _Oh, Norns._  
  
 _He had failed._  
  
 _He stops—head snapping forwards, as if caught by a rope. The darkness vanishes, and the light in its place is blinding—scorching—boiling his skin, and his nerves scream—thick yellow teeth, red rippling skin—_  
  
 _**Wish for something as sweet as pain…**_  
  
  
  
He ripped the fabric off him in a panic—it stuck to his sweat covered skin. He tumbled off the bed, panting heavily, sliding to the floor beside the stacked mattress. The room was silent. The wind outside whistled against his balcony windows. The sky was a dull blue.  
  
He let a choked sound.  
  
The dreams weren’t a constant. Every week or so, one of them would have him gasping for air and clawing his way out of his sheets. They were, however, getting worse. The images were much more vivid, the pain prominent long after waking.  
  
He pressed a hand to his chest—the  _void_  echoing against his fingers. Breathe. Just breathe.  
  
“Mr. Silvertongue.”  
  
Loki turned his eyes upwards, fingers digging into his skin. He had long asked the AI not to bother with him when this happened. There was no help for it. None at all.  
  
“I’m  _fine_ , JARVIS.”  
  
“Very good sir—that, however, is not the nature of this call.”  
  
As if on cue, an alarm went off over head. A moment later, he could hear scuffling through the walls—the others jumping awake, rushing into the hallways. Loki scowled, standing among his fallen sheets.  
  
“Tell them I’ll be ready.”  
  
“Very good, sir.”  
  
Loki padded to his bathroom—the siren wailing over his head. The florescent lights blinked on, and he stared into the pale face of his reflection.

  
Only dreams. They meant nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two begins!
> 
> If you haven't, please take a gander at part one in the series, or there may be confusion. Thank you for reading~


End file.
